


Letters and Templars

by ArchangelEquinox



Series: Once More to the Breach [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Haven (Dragon Age), Mages and Templars, POV Cullen Rutherford, Past Abuse, Pre-Relationship, The Breach (Dragon Age), Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 02:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5767585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchangelEquinox/pseuds/ArchangelEquinox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A letter from her family arrives for the Herald, setting off violence and leaving more questions than answers for Cullen.</p><p> <br/>takes places just after "Why Me?" and will reference that story; may be helpful to read first</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters and Templars

            The letter arrived just days after Talia reached her decision about the Breach.  In less than a week, the Inquisition would officially travel to Therinfal Redoubt to recruit the rogue templars to their cause. 

            The letter was nothing special in itself.  Josephine had sent out dozens to noble houses in the past few days, all asking for support in approaching the templars, and she’d started receiving responses almost immediately.  Some – like those from Orlais – were hesitant about pledging their names to the Inquisition’s cause.  Others, especially those from Ferelden, were more supportive, offering donations and soldiers in addition to their names.  A choice few, from all over Thedas, openly denounced the Inquisition and its heretic Herald. 

            This letter, though, arrived with the Trevelyan family seal, and that made it different. 

            Josephine was toying with it, looking uncharacteristically fidgety, when Talia opened her cabin door. 

            “Herald!” She burst out, looking surprised to find Talia in her cabin. 

            “Josephine,” Talia said rather guiltily.  “What can I do for you?”  She’d been about to take a nap, though she didn’t want to admit that to the Ambassador. 

            “Herald, I um…” She hesitated, then seemed to collect herself.  “I have news of your family, Herald.  They have sent us a letter.”  Talia’s eyes dropped to the parchment Josephine was unconsciously fiddling with.  “I did not open it, of course, but I wanted to be sure you received it.” 

            Talia did her best to keep her expression neutral.  She hadn’t had practice at such an endeavor in close to ten years, but stretching her noble muscles would be good practice for Therinfal.  

            “Thank you,” she said, tone colder than she meant it, and plucked the parchment from Josephine’s fingers.  The Ambassador opened her mouth to say something else, but Talia pushed past, closing the cabin door behind her.  

            She stalked through Haven, sure the confused Ambassador must be watching her as she left.  Josephine was likely curious about the letter, expecting perhaps a pledge of support or a donation now that a daughter of the house had been named the Herald of Andraste. 

            She would be waiting a long while indeed for anyone in Talia’s family to help them. 

\---

            Talia carried the unopened letter with her for hours.  While brushing her horse, arguing with the quartermaster over supplies, and locating some papers for Adan, the parchment weighed heavy in her pocket.  It was only in the middle of a conversation with Leliana about the Maker that she realized she wasn't paying much attention, and she excused herself abruptly.   She knew the Spymaster's sharp ears heard the lie in her excuses, but she could not bring herself to care.  She had to read that letter, lest she miss something important, and consequences be damned. 

            The walk to Haven's frozen lake was long and cold, but the outcroppings on its shores offered more privacy than anywhere else in the town.  Talia settled herself there among the rocks, just out of sight of the training grounds, and pulled the letter from her pocket. 

            Its seal was smooth, unbroken, the dark gray wax imbued with the familiar Trevelyan horse dancing across it.  She studied it, trying to ignore the way her heart pounded.  Finally she could stand it no longer and slid a finger under the seal, snapping the brittle wax.  She unfolded it carefully, her lips pursed as she scanned over its few lines. 

 

_Talia,_

_Your family has missed you these last years, dear sister.  Henry, in particular, has asked after you._

_Your return to House Trevelyan is immediately anticipated._

_Do not disappoint._

_Nathaniel_

            She read it again, feeling cold fingers of dread sliding through her chest, and sucked in a haggard breath through clenched teeth. 

            Nathaniel.  After all these years, her brother had finally found her. 

            And Henry.  Her chest tightened at the mention of his name.  Reading the short lines again, she fought down the sudden rage that bloomed through her body. 

            This had been a mistake.  The move away from Denerim, the job with the Chantry, the choice to attend the Conclave… she should never have come to Ferelden. 

            Talia was on her feet and storming back toward Haven before she even realized she'd moved.  She wasn't sure where she was heading -- to grab her things and run? To tell the advisors to shove it? To the tavern to drink herself into submission?  The options, few that they were, swirled through her head as she pounded through the training grounds. 

            A sharp, taunting voice cut through everything. 

            "Maker-damned monsters! You'll call down demons on the lot of us!"  A templar, the crackle of his power already rippling through the air, was only inches from a mage.  He stood just as angry, fire blooming in his palms as he shouted back. 

            "And you'll deserve it, after what your precious Order has done to us!" 

            There was a shriek of metal as the templar drew his blade.  "I oughta end you, filth! Save the demons the trouble!" 

            The Mark on her hand flared up then, sending spirals of green light out over the snow around her as rage boiled.   Before she could stop herself, Talia had drawn her daggers and leapt at the knight. 

            The next moments were a blur.   She felt magic crackle through the air as the mage threw up a barrier.  A thick, heavy feeling like the air made solid pressed down as the templar pushed out a Silence.  Red flew as her daggers sank into the templar's flesh, where on his body a question she didn't want answered by the copious blood.  A glancing blow connected with her shoulder, and she spun, a blade answering whatever advance had been made.  She couldn't see for rage and snow blinding her, and suddenly two strong arms circled her waist and yanked her bodily back.  There was something familiar about the scent that surrounded her, not just the metallic copper of blood but armor polish and something almost citrus, but the spike of recognition wasn't enough. 

              She threw her elbow blindly back.  There was a solid crunch, a shout of pain, and then whoever it was dropped her abruptly into the snow. 

            Shouts and screams around her suddenly materialized where before had been cold silence, a dull roar in her ears over the pounding of her heart.  She did not check who she had injured, and she did not wait to find if they were all right. 

            She only ran. 

\---

            The long minutes after Talia elbowed him square in the face were a blur to Cullen.  Soldiers as well as mages had descended on the chaos, some moving to restrain their more enthusiastic compatriots, but the majority running to the victims' sides.    The grounds were soon restored to order, the templar taken to Adan's hut for further work and the mage escorted back to his tent.   

            Cullen stood surveying those soldiers who remained, Leliana beside him. 

            "I told you violence would break out between them," Cullen muttered,  arms crossed. 

            Leliana's sharp eyes travelled over the recruits, no doubt assessing who would need to be stopped before word of the attack spread.  "I never doubted you, Commander," she said softly.  They stood in silence for a few moments until Cullen tried to pinch the bridge of his nose, remembering too late the damage he'd sustained.  He grunted and tried to run his hand through his hair purposefully, like he'd meant to do it. 

            Leliana smirked. 

            "Has anyone seen the Herald since the fighting?"  She asked, not looking at him. 

            "No." 

            "Shouldn't someone look for her?" 

            "That would be an excellent idea," Cullen agreed, and he glanced around for someone to send only to meet Leliana's cool gaze.  He stared at her, arms dropping. 

            "You can't possibly mean me," he finally said.

            "Why, of course," the Spymaster said, her delicate Orlesian accent much more innocent than she. 

            "After she broke my nose? I refuse."  He crossed his arms again and looked away, lips pressed in a hard line. 

            "You know as well as I that she did not know it was you she injured." 

            Cullen snorted, then cringed with the pain, his eyes watering.  "And why should that matter?" 

            The Spymaster rolled her eyes, hidden away beneath her hood.  "She would not hurt you.  She trusts you.  Otherwise, why come to you for advice about the templars?" 

            That drew Cullen's full attention.  "You knew she asked me?  That I gave her that advice?" 

            Leliana laughed, the bells in her voice low and ominous.  "Of course I did, Commander.  Do not sound so surprised."  She gave him a look, her eyes sparkling beneath her hood. 

            He opened his mouth to retort but never got that far.  "You need to talk to her, Commander.   None of us can, not like she needs." 

            Cullen knew when he'd been beaten, but he glared at Leliana anyway.  "Very well.  But don't expect me to share her words with you." 

            "Me? I would never," the Spymaster laughed, already turning away.  Cullen glared after her for a long moment before he finally uncrossed his arms. 

            "Rylen!"  He waved his second over.  "Take over training for the evening.  I need to find the Herald."  Training secured, he marched off into the wilderness surrounding Haven, still muttering over his ire at Leliana as he left. 

\---

            Footprints veered off the road not far outside of Haven.  Cullen followed them, eyeing the dark red drops of blood that accompanied Talia's path through the snow.  They were from both the templar and the mage, though the knight had sustained far more damage.  Likely Talia hadn't even sheathed her daggers, merely run. 

            The droplets dwindled but Cullen could spy the blades where they'd been abandoned in the snow.  He paused, staring down at them.  One was covered in bloodstains, fresh and dried, but the other was almost clean other than a splash of blood along one edge.  Perhaps that glancing blow had been why the mage came away almost clean. 

            He studied the blades.  Should he take them back to Leliana for confiscation? Clean them and give them back to the Herald?  If she'd been under his command, she'd have been court-martialed by now, awaiting punishment, but he suspected that was not how Josephine would want this handled, not in light of their upcoming trip to Therinfal. 

            The decision was made for him when the Herald herself appeared before him.  She didn't speak, only pulled out an oilcloth and gathered up the blades to clean them.   Before long, most of the blood was gone, but she still hadn't said a word. 

            Finally Cullen cleared his throat, and she glanced up. 

            "Come to haul me back to the dungeons?"  She asked, tucking the daggers back into their sheaths.  "It's no less than I deserve." 

            "I happen to agree," Cullen said, his voice steady.  "But I've only come to check on you." 

            Her expression softened, surprise making her look younger, kinder.  "I see," was all she said, and she heaved a sigh.  Cullen waited patiently as she fished around inside her jacket, eventually producing a piece of parchment. 

            "I got a letter," she offered by way of explanation, and extended it out to him. 

            Cullen glanced at it before looking back up to meet her eyes.  "Will that help me understand what happened?" 

            She shrugged, but kept the letter outstretched.  Pursing his lips, he took it and unfolded it, careful not to disturb the remains of the seal. 

            He read it once.  Then, his frown deepening, he read it again. 

            When the Herald still did not say anything, Cullen turned the letter over, thinking he had missed something in his reading.  It was but a few lines, and even if the last part was a bit chilly, it read mostly like a brother who had not seen his sister in years. 

            He swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable.  It reminded him of his own sister, Mia; she had sent similar letters in the past months, begging Cullen to write back and tell her something, anything, of his continued existence. 

            He wondered if Talia was as embarrassed as he to write back.  How many of these had she received over the years? How many letters from home asking, pleading, for her return?   Perhaps that was what had upset her so.   

            Tears were rolling down her cheeks when he looked up. 

            He stepped close to her, the letter dropping to his side, and his confusion over the day's events erupted out of him.  “Herald, what is wrong?  I’ve seen the letter, broken up a fight… What is happening that I don’t understand?” 

            Her voice, when she finally answered, was shaky and broken.  “Henry is dead.” 

            That must be what had upset her.  She must have received news this morning about her brother’s death, when this letter was clearly supposed to arrive first.  But something about that didn’t feel right; there was no mention of an illness nor indeed any kind of warning about her brother at all.  In fact, with another read, the chilly tone had the potential to be a subtle threat… 

            Cullen felt the back of his neck prickle, and he rubbed it idly as he pondered what to say.  Her actions were inexcusable, borderline insane, and yet losing a sibling… he'd lost his parents to the Blight and knew how hard that had been.  He couldn't imagine if it had been his younger brother. 

            “I’m so sorry, Herald… Talia… ,” he began, reaching for her shoulder, but she cut him off. 

            “No,” she choked out.  “Henry’s been dead for 15 years!  He died…”  Her voice hitched, and suddenly Cullen found himself with a sobbing woman in his arms. 

            “Um…” He stared down at her, no idea what to do.  He wasn’t good at stuff like this; give him something to fight or kill, and he exceled, but ask him to comfort someone… 

            “It’s, um, okay,” he said, patting her on the shoulder.  The cold of his breastplate must have been shocking, but she collapsed further against him, her face buried in her hands.  _Maker’s breath, she’s shivering._   He tugged gently at his coat, trying to loosen it without disturbing her, and managed to shrug it off.  Moving carefully, he draped it over her and cautiously let his arms come to rest around her. 

            If anything, her sobbing got louder. 

            He looked around, hoping for someone to pass Talia off to, someone who could actually help her. But of course, out here in the snow around Haven with twilight fast-descending, there was no one. 

            Cullen cursed to himself.  And then at Leliana, for sending him out here.  And then at Breach too, just for good measure. 

            Talia was still crying, but her shivering slowed and her warmth started to seep through his armor.  He could _feel_ her against his chest now, his arms tightening instinctively around her.  Another warm feeling was welling up inside him, one he hadn’t felt in years, not since before Kinloch Hold: a gentle, quiet comfort that reminded him of home. 

            Slowly, carefully so he didn’t scare her, Cullen leaned his cheek against the top of her head.  He didn’t close his eyes – his brain begged him to give in to this moment, but he couldn’t let himself.  That was too much.  He barely knew this woman, only that she was exuberant and kind, perhaps a little unruly, and right now, terribly upset. 

            He wouldn’t take advantage of that, no matter the feeling in his chest. 

            The gentle weight of his head on hers seemed to pull Talia back to reality, and before more than a few minutes had passed, she pushed away, out of the circle of Cullen’s arms. The cold air rushed back, chilling his armor in seconds, but the warmth in his chest remained. 

            “I’m sorry,” she whispered and wiped her eyes. 

            “It’s quite all right,” Cullen said gruffly, straightening his armor.  When he tugged unnecessarily at his breastplate, Talia seemed to realize that she was wearing his coat. 

            “Oh, here,” she said quickly, starting to shrug out of it. 

            Cullen held up his hands.  “Please, keep it.  I mean, um, at least, you know, for now.”  She smiled slowly at him, her eyes still wet, and pulled it close around her.  With wide eyes, she surveyed the scene around them, taking in the setting sun over Haven. 

            “I’m sorry,” she repeated.  She did not look at him. 

            “Herald, I…” He squared his shoulders, imperceptible under his armor, and steeled himself for her reaction.  “Please tell me what’s going on.” 

            Talia’s eyes drifted back to him.  They were strangely flat, emotionless, and they passed quickly over him and back out to the snowy landscape surrounding them. 

            “My brother knows I’m alive, Commander,” she said quietly, so quietly he almost didn’t hear her.  “He knows I’m alive for the first time in nearly ten years, and it’s all because of the Breach.”  She dropped her chin to her chest, and for a moment, her features disappeared into the mass of fur on his coat’s collar. 

            She took a deep breath and muttered, “I knew I shouldn’t have used my real name.” 

            “Herald?” 

            Her eyes flew back to him, and now they were focused, as sharp as he’d ever seen them.   Then they widened, and she cringed.  “Oh, Maker, Cullen, did I do that?” 

            “What?”  He put a hand to his face and suddenly remembered his broken nose.  “Oh, that.  Um. Yes.  When I broke up the fight.” 

            Her eyes grew very round.  "That was you?" 

            "Um, well," he rubbed the back of his neck again.  "Yes." 

            She reached out a careful hand. “May I?” 

            “Um…” She touched him before he could respond, her delicate fingers dancing over the binding across the bridge of his nose.  Solas had set it, but he hadn’t had time to heal it; the templar Talia had attacked was in far worse shape, and Adan had pulled the elf away to assist.  Cullen didn’t actually mind; once set, the break wasn’t too painful, and the cold had numbed it quickly into a dull ache.  The bruises under his eyes looked frightening, he knew, but they didn’t hurt much either. 

            To his surprise, her fingers carried the same warmth as the rest of her.  They prodded carefully, knowing just how to touch him so they didn’t hurt.   In fact, he found himself smiling at her, watching her face as she searched his. 

            “I’m so sorry,” she breathed, resting her hands on his cheeks for the briefest of moments.  When she pulled away, she blushed.  “For that, and for crying on you.” 

            “I didn’t mind,” he replied, his voice quiet. 

            For a moment, they just smiled at each other, and Cullen felt his anger with her start to dissipate.    

            Then Talia turned abruptly away.  “Can we walk? My legs are going numb.” 

            “Of course.”  He thought he saw her blush again but lost sight of her face as she moved. 

            They walked in silence for a while, away from Haven and their respective responsibilities, and Cullen was surprised to find that he didn't mind.  Every few moments, Talia would glance back, though if she was looking at him or the town receding behind them, he wasn’t sure.  He didn't mind that either.  The mountains around them were surprisingly peaceful, and he breathed in deeply, the cold air searing his lungs.  Around them, the sun continued its slow path toward the horizon, the bright pinks and golds broken only by the angry clouds and greenish haze of the Breach. 

            When they had climbed high enough to see the shingled roof of the Chantry, Talia stopped and looked around.  She must have spied something she liked because she waded through snowdrifts above her knees to a boulder nearby and tried to climb up.  It didn’t work very well – the boulder was huge, and most of the snow was powder so she couldn’t use it as leverage. 

            Cullen resisted the urge to chuckle and instead waded over himself.  He linked his fingers to give her a leg up; she didn’t need much, but she still grabbed his shoulders for balance as she climbed.  As she settled herself, making sure to tuck the edges of his coat under her to protect her from the cold, he found a foothold and boosted himself up. 

            They sat on the boulder together and watched the sunset.  In fact, Cullen studied the Breach, but he suspected that Talia was taking in the horizon.  He didn’t ask; he didn’t want to disturb her. 

            “What’s my name, Commander?” 

            The question came out of nowhere.  He turned to study her, his brow furrowed.  She was looking back with those emerald eyes, wide and earnest, and he saw she was serious. 

            “You are Lady Talia Trevelyan, if I am not mistaken,” he said cautiously. 

            “You are not,” she confirmed.  “Who was I before the Breach?” 

            Now Cullen was sure she was leading him into a trap.  “… Lady Talia Trevelyan?” 

            She shook her head.  “I haven’t been Talia Trevelyan since I was 19,” she said quietly.  “And I was never a true Lady.  My noble title was stripped when I was 12, when I was taken to the Ostwick Circle.” 

            Cullen’s head spun.  She was a _mage_? How had they missed that? It was true that Leliana hadn’t been able to uncover much about their Herald, just a few details about her family’s noble standing and her previous residence in Starkhaven.  But to hide that she was a _mage_ … It was nigh impossible. 

            He could feel anger, betrayal, bubbling up inside himself once again.  He had tried, was still trying, so hard to overcome his prejudice against mages.  But to find that someone he found tolerable, someone he actually didn’t mind talking to for a change, had been lying to him?  In fact embodied something he couldn’t think of without breaking out in a cold sweat? 

            Cullen swallowed.  Clearly he was not as tolerant as he thought. 

            Then Talia’s fingers closed over his hand. 

            “I’m not a mage,” she murmured, and he felt her hand warm against his through the leather of his gloves. 

            He realized he’d been grinding his teeth, his hands clenched into fists, and tried to relax.  When his fingers loosened, she squeezed his hand and let go. 

            “I’m not a mage,” she repeated, her voice confident this time. “But my father was sick. I had always been his favorite, and when he fell ill, my eldest brother, Nathaniel, came home to claim his title only to find that I had been named the heir.  Imagine, a 12-year-old head of house…”  She chuckled at this.  “I’m sure someone else would have run our estate until I was of age, but they would never be truly in charge.  So when Nathaniel found out… My brother Thomas was 16, and a mage.  I learned later he’d manifested at 10 but managed to keep it a secret from all of us.  He… They tricked my father into believing it was my magic he was seeing.” 

            Her voice had gone flat in this time, all emotion stripped from her story.  Cullen wondered how often she’d told it, or how often she’d pushed it down, to be so removed from it.  And to have such dangerous people as her siblings, moving against her… that old hatred shifted deep inside him, whispering that mages could never be trusted, would always seek their own ends, should be destroyed to avoid bloodshed and pain and death.  He closed his eyes, his jaw clenched again, and he tried to push such thoughts away.  Instead, he made to reach for her hand, some contact to remind her he was there. 

            Hers, however, were scrunched in the fur of his coat, and he shifted awkwardly to avoid her seeing the gesture for what it was.  Warmth flooded his face and he turned quickly back to the Breach to avoid meeting her eyes. 

            She ignored his fidgeting.  “I spent two days locked in the cellar until the templars came.  I was a hysterical mess when they arrived – sobbing, begging my father to send them away, screaming that I wasn’t a mage.  They took me anyway, and Henry… He tried to save me.  He had been training to become a templar for years, had spent time in the Ostwick Circle learning about the Order.  He was about to take his vows…”  

            Cold gripped Cullen’s heart. 

            “And they killed him.”  She stopped speaking, and after some time Cullen wondered if she might not start up again.  Instead, she studied the sky with great intensity. 

            When she spoke again, she refused to look down and spill her tears.  “I lived there for seven years.  William, my twin, often came to visit me and make sure I wasn’t too mistreated, but of course the templars hid the worst of their abuse from him.  They knew I could barely fight back, what with no magic, so they didn’t worry.  Nathaniel paid them off to keep me after my father died.” 

            In his astonishment, Cullen could only latch on to one piece of information.  “You have a twin?” 

            Another woman probably would have been furious that he wasn’t paying attention to the point, but Talia only smiled sadly.  “I did, yes.  He left when we were 18, while I was still in the Circle.  We… had an escape plan, for me.  Will was the one who taught me about my phylactery, that if I escaped there was no way to track me.” Her smile brightened.  “He used to bring me chocolates and books and wooden practice blades hidden in bouquets of flowers.” She saw Cullen’s look and a genuine grin broke across her face.  “I learned how to fight from him, before he left.” 

            “Where did he go?” 

            “To Orlais, I think.  I was supposed to escape earlier and meet him, but I was scared.  This was just after the Blight ended in Ferelden, and I had heard about the darkspawn and the taint.  But when the mages in my Circle started talking of Kinloch Hold and the rebellion there, I knew I had to get out.” 

            Cullen stiffened beside her.  He’d told her he was in Ferelden during the Blight, though he refused to discuss the details of that part of his life.  She couldn’t know that he had been in Kinloch during the mage rebellion, couldn’t know what had happened to him. 

            And she must not have, for she skimmed right through the rebellion.  If he had looked harder, he might have seen the shiver that ran through her then, but he did not. 

            “After I escaped, I bounced around for a while, everywhere with a new name.  Ostwick, Kirkwall, Starkhaven… anywhere I could live safely, I did.” 

            “Kirkwall?”  Had their time there overlapped?  Cullen hoped he would have remembered her, but with everything going in Kirkwall during his tenure… he wasn’t sure. 

            “For a time, yes.  I was there before the qunari invasion, but I heard Thomas was there too, living as an apostate, so I left for Starkhaven.  When I came back in 9:35, the city was still recovering.”  She glanced at him then, a sly smile on her face.  “I had plenty of friends lusting after the handsome Knight-Captain of the Gallows, you know.” 

            "Even with my hair like that?"  He gave a disgusted grunt that would have made Cassandra proud.  Beside him, Talia burst out laughing, and Cullen realized he'd spoken aloud. 

            "They weren't looking at your hair, Commander," she laughed, and he turned red up to his ears.   

            “Don’t be shy, Commander,” she teased gently, still chuckling.  “I suspect you knew the kind of attention you commanded.”  The playful tone of her words didn’t help his blush any and he dropped his eyes back to the horizon, avoiding her scrutiny.  

            “I was… often not myself, in Kirkwall,” he admitted, and the easy humor between them vanished. 

            “I… loved the city, actually, but I stayed away from the Gallows and its templars,” she replied.  “I never knew how successful my disguise was, despite never once hearing from my family.  I suspected they were looking for me, but I never knew.” 

            Cullen thought back to what the Gallows had been like.  Controlling, iron-willed Meredith would have branded her without question if orders from Ostwick had been so, and the other templars… their transgressions would have been far worse, if the rumors about the Kirkwall Order had been true.  And he knew they had been, Maker forgive him. 

            “I am… glad, I think, that you did not meet me then,” he said quietly.  It probably wasn’t what she wanted to hear – no doubt she needed comfort, not questionable information about her advisor, but he didn’t know how to offer anything else.  Perhaps his questionable past could balance her questionable present, and the Inquisition would move on.    

            She glanced at him, the question plain on her face. 

            “I would not have been one to… erm, act against you,” he explained, choosing his words carefully.  “But… I likely would have… that is, if … I would have followed my orders, such as they were,” he said finally, and he could not meet her eyes.  “Kirkwall was not a time of my life I am proud of.” 

            Talia did not reply for a long time, her eyes settling again on the Breach as it swirled above Haven. 

            “Few people love their pasts,” she said finally, but did not elaborate. 

            Silence settled over them again, filled with a tension Cullen could not place. 

            After a time, as the sun set completely and the wind started to turn cold, Cullen cleared his throat.  “Forgive me, my lady, I did not mean to…”  He wondered how to phrase his thoughts.  Everything around her was too tongue-tied right now, her story mixed up with his own past.  “I meant to listen to your troubles, and yet we’ve … gotten away from that, somehow.”  By his own fault, he knew, but he was hesitant to admit it.  One revealed failing for this evening was enough. 

            When she didn’t reply, Cullen touched her arm gently, and she jumped. 

            “Oh, Commander, I’m sorry,” she groaned.  “I was… far away, I admit.” 

            He tried to deny the way his chest felt hollow with her words.  “It is no trouble.  I was only offering to listen to the rest of your story.” 

            She nodded vigorously and scooted closer to him on the boulder.  “There isn’t much else to tell.  I didn’t live in Kirkwall long, and after that I moved to Ferelden and worked in Denerim.  I still didn’t use my name, and so on, and then because I was educated, I got a job as a scribe for the Conclave.  From there…”  She shrugged, and Cullen knew the rest.  From there, she’d survived the explosion and gained the Mark on her hand and been first a prisoner and then their savior. 

            From there, she’d been thrust back into the world as Talia Trevelyan, and now her past had caught up with her. 

            “Might I… ask a question?” 

            She smirked at him.  “I believe you just did,” she said, and Cullen blushed.  “Relax, Commander.  I just enjoy making you squirm.” 

            “I see,” he said, filling silence as he tried to word his question as politely as possible.  “Forgive me for asking,” he began, opting for the hedge it provided.  “But… what happened with the templar in Haven?  The fight I broke up?  I understand that you were upset, but…”  _but stabbing  the shite out of a nearby templar does not seem like something you would do, despite how little time I’ve known you._   The thought made him blush again, though he wasn’t quite sure why.  Perhaps such a judgment had been made too soon, but he didn’t think so. 

            “I…” she hesitated, and her own face turned red.  “He was harassing one of the mages,” she explained.  “And I…”  With a deep sigh, she buried her face in her hands.  “I attacked him.  It was… awful of me, really.  Whatever he was doing, he didn’t deserve what I did to him, no matter the charge.”  Her voice was thick with emotion.  “But … it reminded me –”

            “Oh.  I didn't realize --" Cullen began softly, but she ignored him. 

            “A templar once said something similar to me,” she breathed through her clenched hands, and Cullen had to lean in to hear her.  “And… something in me snapped.  I had just read the letter, and I was upset… and I took it out on him.”  She lifted her face then, and it was blotchy with tears.  “I am so sorry, Cullen.” 

            “I…”  The Commander had no idea what to say -- too much sounded like an excuse for what had happened, and that wasn't accurate.  He himself had suffered enough flashbacks and outbursts to know that sometimes a single moment could spark something much more dangerous.  Instead, they lapsed into silence again, and though Talia’s tears slowed, her eyes did not leave his face. 

            Finally Cullen spoke.  “The templar you attacked will recover, Herald.”  He glanced at her as he spoke; her eyes were wide.  “I admit I… am surprised, given the violence I witnessed.  I recall once…”  He hesitated then, wondering if he should reveal his thoughts on Talia’s encounter with Knight-Captain Rylen a few days before. 

            “What?”  Her prompt was soft.  Cullen looked at her, really looked, and he was taken aback at the fear on her face.  Just as a few days before, he had found himself wondering why she trusted him.  She’d explained it when he’d asked, when she wanted his opinion about the templars vs. the mages.  Even with that, he didn’t think he truly understood. 

            He didn’t remember going out of his way to be nice to her, but apparently few else in the Inquisition had either.  When he thought back to meeting her, a prisoner dragged into the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, he remembered only that she had the look of someone who needed someone to be kind to them.  And he’d resolved when he left Kirkwall that he would spend no more of his life being cruel. 

             Now, seeing her face, he was struck by how much he didn’t want to hurt her – not just out of some resolution about being a better man, but from his own affection for her.  Somewhere along the way, unbeknownst to him, they’d created a friendship between them, and he cared about her.     

            “Cullen?”  Her voice broke through his thoughts, and he glanced up at her. 

            “Talia,” he began, her name surprising them both.  “Remember a few days ago, when you were playing with Sera and said Rylen tackled you?  For a moment…”  He hesitated, watching the expression on her face.  He took a deep breath.  “I would not have been surprised if you’d killed him, that day.  I know how you hate templars, and he…” She stared at him, her eyes wide.  “But I’m glad you did not.  I know that…”  He stopped, his thoughts muddled, and scrubbed a gloved hand over his face.  “I don’t know what I’m trying to say.” 

            She had been studying him, but when he stopped speaking, she rested her hand carefully on his forearm.  "After learning all this," she began quietly.  "Do you still think it's the best idea to go to the Templars for help?  Do you think they will accept me, someone they once hunted?" 

             Cullen stared out over the horizon for a moment before he answered, evening settling in around them.  "I do not know," he said honestly.  "But I do still think them best.  Their leaders can understand what happened, enough to sympathize, and offering a corrupt Order a new chance will go a long way to building trust with them." 

            Beside him, Talia nodded and stood up.  "I'm glad you think so," she said.  Her whole demeanor shifted, like she was putting her true self away and bringing back Talia the Herald for show.  "And glad I don't have to ask Josephine to change our plans," she added, a smirk crossing her face.  She stretched and turned to him, extending a hand to pull him up. 

            Cullen didn't move, only studied her.  "Herald, may I ask another question?"  Confusion crossed her face, the mask slipping, and she dropped her hand before nodding.  "If you hold such animosity for Templars, why approach them?  This is perhaps the most important decision the Inquisition will ever make.  Why…?"  He trailed off, unable to put the last of his confusion into words. 

            Talia avoided his gaze, instead leaping off the boulder and landing with a puff of snow.  She tightened his cloak around her, waiting until he climbed carefully down to glance at him.  "I cannot give anyone the chance to do to others what was done to me," she said softly, her voice muffled with her back still turned.  "Giving the Templars an opportunity to restore their Order is the best way to accomplish that." 

            Cullen turned this over in his mind for a moment.  It was a surprisingly cogent argument:  She was motivated not out of revenge, but by the desire to protect -- she did not want punishment for those who had wronged her, only care for others who might be similarly vulnerable. 

            It was perhaps the most selfless motivation he'd ever heard expressed, and admiration flooded through him.   For a moment, he was overcome with the desire to pull her into his arms, cup her face between his hands, press his lips to hers, and -- he shook his head abruptly.  He didn't know where that had come from, but it would not happen again.  Could not.  She was the Herald, and he the Commander; there was no world where they could be together, and no world where someone so compassionate would want someone as cruel and damaged as he. 

            The Herald must have turned in time to witness his shaking head, for her shoulders slumped.  "You disagree?  Help me then, Cullen," she implored him.  "I don't know what else to do." 

            "No, Talia, I --"  He stepped forward, cautiously reaching out to put his hand on her shoulder.  "That is more than I could have asked for," he said sincerely. 

            "I'm glad," she said, relieved, and smiled quietly up at him.  He nodded, and they headed back toward Haven together in companionable silence. 

            Just outside the walls, when the absent clashing of weapons told Cullen that his recruits had already been sent off to dinner, he stopped, and Talia paused beside him. 

            "May I ask one final thing, Herald?"  She raised an eyebrow at him, and he huffed a small laugh.  "I know. May we put some Inquisition resources… toward recruiting the mages?"  Now both the Herald's eyes were wide, and she asked him to explain.  Cullen grasped the back of his neck, his eyes roving to avoid contact.  "I just… If you can reach out to the Templars, despite what has happened, then I…"  He stopped himself, remembering that he'd yet to tell her about Kinloch Hold.  For the first time in his life, he felt like perhaps he _could_ tell someone -- _her_ \-- about what had transpired there, but this was not the time.  Heaving a sigh, he looked for her eyes and found their emerald depths trained on his. 

            "Cullen…"  She said quietly, reaching for him, and he allowed her to touch his cheek gently before he spoke again. 

            "I may not agree with them, as is likely obvious.  But they deserve protection.  If they'll allow it, we should help them."   

            Talia smiled and dropped her hand.  "I will ask Josephine to prepare a letter for their leaders," she said softly. 

            "Thank you," he said, catching her fingers before they could fall to her side.  "I--"  Just beyond them, the bells rang to signal the dinner hour, and Talia stepped away. 

            "I have to go make a visit," she explained.  "There's a templar I need to apologize to."  She started to shrug out of his coat, but he raised a hand and her movements stilled. 

            "Please," he said.  "Keep it.  Until later, at least." 

            A slow, genuine smile spread across her face, and she pulled its collar tighter around her again.  "Thank you, Cullen," she murmured.  Quickly she leaned up and kissed his cheek, dropping down and darting away into the little town before he could respond. 

            "Good night, Talia," he whispered to the cold air around him, and yet he felt nothing but warmth spreading through his chest. 


End file.
